


Ambien and Other Secrets

by CoffeeAddict80



Series: Desperate Times... 'verse [15]
Category: Glee
Genre: Insomnia, M/M, Non-graphic Mentions of Past Abuse/Violence, Past Character Death, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 04:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14663103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeAddict80/pseuds/CoffeeAddict80
Summary: ((One-shot in the Desperate Times ‘Verse. You should probably read that story first. This takes place about 2 weeks before the epilogue begins - 2 days beforeHypersexuality.))When Kurt spends the night at Blaine's place, Blaine discovers a few things about his boyfriend that he didn't know before.





	Ambien and Other Secrets

Sunday evening, Kurt went over to Blaine’s apartment after work. It was almost midnight by the time he arrived. “I’m so glad that finals are done, and we can finally spend time together that doesn’t involve school or work,” Blaine told him, as they walked down the hall to Blaine’s bedroom.

“I do start Summer Classes next week though,” Kurt reminded him. “So, my free time is still limited.”

“I know,” he replied. “But you won’t have a full course load. You’re only taking 3 classes. Which means, there will be days where we’ll be able to spend more than just _part_ of an afternoon together. We can spend an entire evening with just the two of us – unless it’s a day that you have to go to work obviously; and there will be nights that you can sleep over without either one of us having to worry about getting up early for classes or anything too.”

“That’s true,” Kurt agreed. They climbed up onto Blaine’s bed and cuddled together while continuing their conversation.

“Why did you sign up for Summer Classes anyway?” Blaine asked.

“Two reasons,” he began. “One: I have two very intense majors with very little overlap in course requirements. Which means I can either: A.) graduate in six or seven years – instead of the normal four. B.) double up on classes during regular semesters so I can try and graduate on time; which would leave me no time to do _anything_ that wasn’t school work – including eating and sleeping. Or C.) take a few Summer Classes every year to earn those course credits that I need so I can graduate on time. I chose option ‘C’.

“The second reason: my internship. The internship requires that I be enrolled in at least one theater related college course to be eligible. If I don’t enroll in Summer Classes, I have to give up my job for the summer and reapply in the Fall. But there would be no guarantee that I’d get re-hired. And considering how rare it is to find an internship that actually _pays_ people… I’d say the likelihood that the position was still open would be zero. Especially since not only does this internship give you a paycheck for your work, but the paygrade is above minimum wage. Granted it’s below what the theater offers as starting pay to regular employees, but still. Most internships, you’d be lucky to get course credits if anything at all!”

“I see your point,” Blaine told him. “I’d probably do the same thing if I were in your position.” Blaine yawned widely, mumbling a quiet ‘sorry’ after.

“Honey, if you’re tired, just go to sleep,” Kurt said.

“What about you? Aren’t you tired at all?” he asked. “It’s after midnight, and you’ve been at work most of the day. You should be exhausted by now.”

Kurt waved off his concerns and replied, “I’m a little tired, but I couldn’t possibly fall asleep just yet.”

“Kurt,” Blaine sighed. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but maybe you should see a doctor about your sleeping issues. In the past couple of months that we’ve really gotten to know each other, you haven’t had a consistent sleep schedule that entire time. I know a lot of it was stress due to school and your financial situation, but…finals are over; and you have a reliable secondary source of income now. Shouldn’t that make it a little easier to sleep at night?”

Kurt closed his eyes and nodded. “I know,” he said. He took a deep breath then looked Blaine in the eyes. “And don’t worry, I’m not going to get upset. Because you’re right. Except… I’ve already been to a doctor about my sleep issues.”

“You have? When? What did they say? Why didn’t you tell me?” he wondered.

“It was a few years ago; before we began talking,” Kurt began. “Basically, I have insomnia. It comes and goes. I usually go a few months at a time without experiencing any sleeping issues at all. But when I do…the insomnia can last for weeks at a time. The more stress I’m under, the worse it is. Which usually only leads to more stress. And so the cycle continues. My doctor gave me a prescription for Ambien to treat it. I don’t want to become dependent on it, so I only take it when the insomnia is _really_ bad.”

“So, you were just given a sleeping pill; and that’s it? Nothing else?” he asked. “They didn’t look into it further?”

“Technically, Ambien is a sedative, not a sleeping pill, but…” Kurt sighed, then bit his lip and shook his head. “No. That’s not all of it. My insomnia… it’s actually a symptom of something called ‘dysthymia’.”

Blaine did a double-take and sat up straighter while giving Kurt a look of disbelief. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t dysthymia a form of _depression_?” When Kurt nodded in reply, Blaine continued, “So, you suffer from _chronic_ depression? And never told me? Why?”

“Because I’ve never told anyone. Not even my dad,” he replied.

“What?” Blaine asked, looking both shocked and confused.

“I was diagnosed with it not long after my brother died,” Kurt began. “My family was going through enough as it was; not just with Finn’s death, but my dad’s health issues as well. In addition to my dad’s heart condition, my dad had just – and I mean _just_ – gone into remission from his prostate cancer. I didn’t want them to have to worry about me too. Dysthymia is a _‘mild’_ depression. I wasn’t being medicated for it – with the exception of the Ambien that is – so I didn’t think it was necessary for me to say anything to them. I could manage on my own. There was no need to worry them or trouble them when they were already dealing with so many other – more significant – problems. And then, by the time my family had started to heal… bringing it up seemed pointless.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t have seen it that way,” he said. “But what about your friends? Why didn’t you tell them?”

“When Finn died…” Kurt paused and took a few shaky breaths then used his shirt sleeve to dab at the tears threatening to escape. “His death was hard on all of us. We all loved him in our own way. They were dealing with their own grief; I didn’t think it was fair to burden them with mine too.”

“He was your _brother_ ,” Blaine said, sympathetically. “I’m sure they would have understood.”

Kurt shook his head before replying somewhat bitterly, “You would think that. But, no. I think they all sort of forgot that Finn and I were brothers. Or maybe, because we were technically step-brothers, that somehow lessened our brotherly-bond in their eyes. I don’t know.

“What I do know, is that when they weren’t dealing with their own grief, my friends were all focused on helping Rachel deal with _her_ grief. Like her on-again-off-again relationship with Finn somehow made her loss greater than everyone else’s. I think Santana was the _only_ one to ask me how _I_ was doing; the only one that didn’t place Rachel’s grief above their own. But I could tell that even she was having a really hard time dealing with the loss of Finn. I didn’t feel like I _could_ talk to my friends about what I was going through.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right about Santana,” Blaine said. “She took his death pretty hard. I actually flew home to Ohio the weekend of Finn’s funeral, so I could be there for her – whenever she wasn’t with you or your other friends that is. But, since I didn’t know Finn personally, and because Santana hates looking vulnerable in front of anyone, I didn’t go with her to the memorial or the actual funeral. Remembering how Santana was afterwards… I can’t even begin to imagine what you must have been going through. I wish I would’ve known that Finn was your brother at the time. Even though, back then, we barely even knew each other; we were just classmates that didn’t even talk to one another. But still, maybe I could have been there for you too.”

“Yeah; maybe. But I’m glad you were able to be there for Santana. I knew she was having a hard time, and I felt bad I didn’t know how to help,” Kurt told him. “And while I did have Adam for moments of _quiet_ support and comfort, I still didn’t feel like I could _talk_ to him about Finn. It just seemed wrong somehow. I think it was because Adam didn’t really get along with Finn, so all of his verbal sympathies felt forced and not at all genuine. And talking to my friends didn’t feel like an option either. Like I said, they all had their own grief to deal with; and they all dealt with it in their own ways. I don’t really think any of us were capable of being a support system for each other, no matter how much we wanted to be.”

Blaine hesitated to see if Kurt would say anything else. When he remained quiet, Blaine prompted him with a question. “So, after your brother passed, you went to the doctor about your sleeping problems? And that’s how you got diagnosed? Or…?”

“Not exactly,” Kurt began. “I had been having sleeping issues for _years_ , so it didn’t seem out of the ordinary for me to lie awake at night, unable to sleep. I decided to see a therapist because I _needed_ someone to talk to. I just missed Finn _so_ much. But any time I tried to talk about him, Rachel would either break down in tears and run out of the room or scream at me – telling me I had no idea what she was going through, and that I couldn’t possibly understand the pain she felt. A few of my friends even sided with Rachel. They got on my case for upsetting her by constantly trying to talk about Finn; told me to stop being so selfish, and to think about how she must feel losing someone she loved. It got to the point where I was afraid to even mention his name in my own home. To this day I’m still slightly wary about saying his name in front of her.

“Anyway… One day while I was talking to my dad, he mentioned that he and Carole had scheduled an appointment with a grief counselor. And since I was still having such a hard time with Finn’s death, I figured it couldn’t hurt to look into grief counselors for myself. I thought it might _finally_ give me a chance to talk about how I was feeling – without getting yelled at or feeling like no one cared. But because of how my insurance coverage worked, I ended up having to go to a psychiatrist instead.

“I guess I’m sort of lucky it worked out that way. Because once I started talking… everything I’d been feeling for _years_ just poured out of me; not just about Finn, but my mom too. I even opened up about all the bullying I’d dealt with in highschool; feelings of inadequacy; current school stress; doubts and insecurities about my chosen career; just… _everything_. 

“I was given the Ambien prescription on my very first visit. But the dysthymia diagnosis took a few weeks to come about. My therapist even sent me to my regular doctor to get some tests done to rule out any biological factors before officially diagnosing me. I stayed in therapy for about six months; but I felt so much lighter after having gotten all of those heavy emotions off my chest that I felt like I didn’t _need_ to be in therapy anymore. My therapist agreed to cut back on my regular sessions. So, now I go for a ‘checkup’ visit once every three months instead. My last session was a few days before we filmed our first movie together – _before_ I knew about your depression, anxiety, and PTSD; and my next therapy session is in two weeks.”

“But…” Blaine started, seemingly at a loss for words, “dysthymia is _chronic_ depression, right? Or am I getting it confused with something else?”

Kurt nodded at him. “It is chronic depression. But it’s also _mild_ depression. So, while my depression symptoms last quite a bit longer than those of ‘regular’ depression, they aren’t nearly as intense as what you experience. My depression symptoms are merely a minor inconvenience; they don’t _severely_ impact my daily life.”

“So, if you aren’t in therapy, and you’re not taking medication…” Blaine began to trail off before deciding how to finish his question, “How do you treat your symptoms? Or do you?”

“Mostly I do yoga. It actually helps _a lot_ ,” he replied. “Diet and exercise also work. Aromatherapy helps too. I have a lot of scented candles, incense, and bubble baths. Different fragrances for different moods. Plus, the Ambien helps me sleep. And sleep often helps reduce stress, which makes my other symptoms a little more bearable.”

“Well, if yoga is really that helpful, maybe you should teach me some,” Blaine said, flirtatiously, trying to change the mood of their conversation.

Kurt chuckled then raked his eyes up and down Blaine’s body. “Hmm… I think I’d probably get too distracted by how good you look in yoga pants to actually teach you anything.”

“I’d be okay with that,” he replied, smirking. His expression turned a little more serious before he continued. “But we do have a big day tomorrow. So, what do you say we get ready for bed and I give you a relaxing massage to help you fall asleep? Last time I gave you one, you were out cold before I had even finished.”

“That sounds nice actually,” Kurt agreed. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Blaine arched an eyebrow at Kurt, giving him look that clearly told him that was a stupid question. In a dry, sarcastic voice he said, “Oh no. I’ll have to rub my hands all over my gorgeous boyfriend’s bare skin; touching him all over his mostly naked body. Such a bothersome chore. Whatever on earth possessed me to suggest I do such a thing?”

“Okay, okay; I get it,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes. He quickly kissed Blaine then got up and headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. Kurt stopped in the doorway of the en suite and turned back to Blaine who was already getting undressed. “Wait. What did you mean by we have a big day tomorrow? I thought we agreed that this birthday party you and Santana insisted on giving me was just going to consist of us watching movies and pigging out on junk food at my place with Rachel, Santana, and Artie? How is spending all day on my couch considered a ‘big day’?”

“Maybe that was the wrong word choice,” he answered, cautiously. “I just meant that we’re going to be with your friends _all_ day – one of whom I still haven’t met yet – and I don’t think it would be polite if either one of us fell asleep from exhaustion in the middle of the ‘festivities’ so-to-speak.”

“Oh; okay,” Kurt said, still a little wary, as he stepped completely into the bathroom to get ready. He hurriedly stripped down to just his boxer briefs. As he was brushing his teeth, Blaine came up behind him and pressed himself against Kurt’s back while reaching past him to retrieve his own toothbrush.

“Since you’re so knowledgeable about aromatherapy,” Blaine began, softly; his lips pressed against Kurt’s ear, “is there a particular fragrance of massage oil that you’d like me to use on you? Or one I should avoid?” He prepped his own toothbrush then stepped over to the other sink and began brushing his teeth while waiting for Kurt to answer.

Kurt considered his options and when he came to a decision, spit a glob of toothpaste into the sink, so he could answer. “You used a lavender blend of some kind last time, right? It seemed to work really well, so let’s go with that again.”

“Sounds good,” he said. “And if you don’t fall asleep from the massage, I’m sure I can find some _other_ way to tire you out.”

They quickly finished up their nightly routines and hurried back to Blaine’s bedroom. Blaine motioned for Kurt to lay down on the bed, so he could begin the massage, but Kurt stopped him. He pulled Blaine to sit next to him on the loveseat then looked him in the eye.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about my dysthymia earlier,” Kurt began. “I don’t want you to think that I was intentionally keeping this from you. It’s just that I honestly don’t know _how_ to talk about it. I once _tried_ to talk about it with Rachel – before I was diagnosed with anything and Finn was still alive – but she just rolled her eyes, told me I was overexaggerating, and that I needed to get over it. So, I’ve learned to keep things to myself. And I _know_ that you wouldn’t have reacted that way but…” He shrugged, unable to articulate what he wanted to say.

“It’s okay, Kurt,” Blaine reassured him. “I get it. I do. I _know_ how hard it is to talk about having a mental illness; believe me. That’s why the list of people that know about mine is so short.” He hesitated before speaking again. “And I think I have a pretty good idea why you didn’t tell me; especially after I told you about my own depression. A long time ago, my therapist suggested a support group for domestic violence survivors. I went to one meeting and I couldn’t go back. I left there feeling worse about _myself_ than when I had arrived. Hearing some of the things that the other people in the group had gone through…I felt like I didn’t belong there; like I got off easy with the things I experienced. I kept comparing my trauma to theirs and it made me feel like I was complaining about _nothing_ , because they all had it so much worse than I did. I think maybe – _subconsciously_ – you were feeling that way too. Like you were afraid to say something about your dysthymia because you know my depression symptoms are worse.”

“I’m still sorry,” he replied, nodding. “Thank you for understanding; and for not being upset that I didn’t tell you sooner. I love you.”

Blaine smiled then kissed Kurt sweetly. “Love you too, sweetie. Now get your cute little butt on that bed, so my magic fingers can lull you to sleep.”

“Anything for you,” Kurt agreed.

 


End file.
